


arch your back, point your toes

by dialetheism



Series: bow chicka (womp womp): a prompting of sexy aesthetics [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Established Relationship, F/M, Hand Jobs, Implied Nick Grimshaw/Louis Tomlinson, Lingerie, Sexy Domesticity, Trans Female Character, Vague D/s Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-01-31
Packaged: 2018-01-10 13:48:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1160420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dialetheism/pseuds/dialetheism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>it’s intoxicating, really, having this kind of power, able to so easily bring someone such immense pleasure by doing so little; Harry is the most responsive person Ben has ever been with, and in the deepest, darkest, most secretly sappy corners of his soul, he knows it’s because they were made for one another.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>like the way Harry’s cock sits perfectly in the cradle of Ben’s fist, and the way Harry’s fingers curl perfectly around Ben’s wrist. they fit.</i>
</p><p>-- Ben and Harry are late for dinner, they don't much care.</p>
            </blockquote>





	arch your back, point your toes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [soften](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soften/gifts).



> inspired by [this](https://24.media.tumblr.com/247d2d963d488897f9f77448b066c337/tumblr_n07q52Ztec1tnz1nuo1_500.png) (nsfw) photo prompt, given to me by my darling bbydoll :*
> 
> all you need to know going into this is that Harry is a trans female and Ben is a cis male and they do some cute & sexy things together, das it.
> 
> not beta'd, not britpick'd, not true; all mistakes are my own, and anything read here should be taken with a grain of salt. title from the song _Arch & Point_ by Miguel.

\--

it’s just gone half six, and if they don’t leave the house in fifteen minutes, they’ll surely be late. Ben has already been forced to settle for his second favorite cologne because the Armani is nowhere to be found, and now it seems as if his cufflinks have gone missing as well. they are most definitely going to be late.

“Haz!” he calls out, fiddling with his loose cuffs uselessly as he turns to leave the ensuite bathroom. “darling, have you seen my --”

he stops himself short in the doorway, voice caught in his throat; Harry is on her back across the foot of their bed, bent nearly double with her shoulders sunk down into their thick down comforter and her knees knocking into her chin, completely naked but for the sheer tights she’s struggling to slide up her legs. she also has a lit cigarette dangling loosely from painted red lips, which they’ve _talked_ about.

Ben shakes himself out of his momentary stupor and steps properly into the room. “smoking in bed? H, we’ve _talked_ about this.”

“mm,” Harry hums. one of her legs is folded at the knee so that she has a foot flat against their mattress, the other stretched out longlonglong toward the ceiling. her brow is furrowed over narrowed eyes as obviously frustrated fingers fight with the lace trimming circling her thigh, and when she speaks, the burning cherry at the end of her cigarette bobs dangerously in the low lighting of their bedroom. “and what did we decide, in the end?”

“that you would refrain,” Ben reminds her, his gaze trained on the sweet roundness of Harry’s bare arsecheeks and the barest dusky pink suggestion of her bollocks peeking out from between pale thighs.

drawing up alongside the bottom edge of their bed, Ben steps closer until his clothed hip brushes lightly over the naked skin of Harry’s on the mattress next to him. he cups a palm around the back of her knee, a silent request that she keep that leg pointed upward, then lets his hand slide down the inside of her thigh to lightly curl over her smooth sac and flaccid cock. Harry stutters out a breathy sigh, a huff of air that blows her fringe in a flurry, and Ben smiles as he flexes his fingers the smallest bit. reaching down with his other hand, he plucks the cigarette from her mouth and brings it up to his own.

he takes a single deep pull through the filter, lets the smoke fill his lungs for a second, two, and then releases it back into the room, where it hangs above their heads like a passing storm cloud before it dissipates. lifting a foot to rest on his opposite knee, Ben leans down so he can stub out the remaining ember on the heel of his shoe and then tucks the extinguished butt into his trouser pocket to dispose of later.

when he looks back to Harry, he’s pleased to note that she’s become much more visibly affected in the meantime -- her breathing heavier than before and with sweat clinging to the curls at her temples, Ben realizes that Harry’s begun to grow hard under his fingers.

he jerks her slow and steady, asks, “will you be needing a garter, then?”

Harry’s mouth works wordlessly for a few confused seconds, mascara-heavy lashes fluttering softly and script-inked hips twitching restlessly. Ben can barely keep the heady amusement from his voice when he tries a second time.

“a garter belt, Hazza,” using the hand that isn’t currently wrapped all-encompassing around Harry’s little prick, he brings the point home, takes hold of her thigh and slips a pair of fingers between lace and skin, lets his nails bite into the flesh just this side of painfully. “for your hose, would you like me to go get you one?”

“ _please_ ,” Harry whines, back arching, and Ben isn’t entirely sure she knows what she’s even asking for anymore.

it’s intoxicating, really, having this kind of power, able to so easily bring someone such immense pleasure by doing so little; Harry is the most responsive person Ben has ever been with, and in the deepest, darkest, most secretly sappy corners of his soul, he knows it’s because they were made for one another.

like the way Harry’s cock sits perfectly in the cradle of Ben’s fist, and the way Harry’s fingers curl perfectly around Ben’s wrist. they fit.

Harry’s other hand is on her left breast, palm completely engulfing the small amount that’s taken its sweet time growing over the three years since Ben and Harry first met. she’s trapped the nipple between her middle and forefingers, gone pink and pebbled and sensitive as ever, and while she tugs at Ben’s wrist with one hand, the other is equally as insistent across her chest.

“please, Ben,” she pleads, voice shaking and curls bouncing as she lolls her head from side to side. and Ben had just about made up his mind to get his mouth on her, taste away the light sheen of sweat that Harry's worked up to wear like a second skin, but her urgency has him deciding to hold off.

he pauses his wanking instead, which prompts Harry’s lids open immediately, eyes wide and at attention. Ben’s lips stretch into a soft grin as he tries to keep his voice even, “do you want the black set, or the navy?”

this is his favorite part, probably - giving Harry choices. he watches rapt as she struggles to think straight, feels a silent thrill in his chest when she stammers around a mumbled _red, please_. and she’s so unbelievably beautiful, that Ben is nearly tempted to give her what she wants, except:

“that wasn’t an option, darling,” he chides, fist tightening around her cock minutely.

the touch is enough to make her hips jerk once, hard, leg trembling where it’s still stretched straight up, toes pointed almost painfully in order to keep her knee locked. Ben smoothes his free hand up from the seat of her arse to the strong muscle of her calf, a caress calming enough that when Harry finally looks him in the eye, her gaze is far less hazy than it had been only a moment before.

“the blue,” she says, tongue darting out to wet her bottom lip. “i’d like the navy blue, please, Ben.”

“good girl,” Ben praises, indulgent. he bends forward to reward her with a quick press of lips, but pulls away before she gets it in her head to deepen the kiss. there’ll be a time for that later. right now, “sit tight for me, love, while i go get your things.”

he straightens back with one last soft, reassuring pat over Harry’s cock and balls, before turning away completely.

-

he would usually think something as ostentatious as their walk-in pretty excessive, if not for how necessary it's actually become; Ben loves to spoil his girl, can’t help himself buying her whatever little thing might strike her fancy, and so it wasn’t long at all after they moved in together that their bedroom closet began to fill in quite snug.

because Harry collects clothes like someone else might collect porcelain figurines, beautiful and delicate and precious. or similar to the way your Nan might hoard holiday souvenirs, brightly colored bits and obnoxiously patterned bobs, a random assortment of sentimental odds and ends that no one else could ever want. and then there are the pieces - not very much unlike flowers pressed between the pages of heavy tomes or butterflies with their wings like tissue paper pinned open forever - that she organizes meticulously, her acquisitions displayed on long shelves and packed hangers, in stacked cubbies and deep drawers.

as he makes his way down, Ben ghosts his fingertips over the spaces shared by his polished oxfords and Harry’s scuffed Chelsea boots at the front, the mixed wall of worn denim and faded plaid folded neatly toward the middle. he continues in deeper, quietly passes over the curtains of his dark suits and Harry’s sparkling dresses, steps up between the twin set of tall chests at the very back.

to his left, the drawers hold an array of long necklaces, bangly bracelets, and mismatched rings. it’s also where he would usually be able to find his favorite pairs of cufflinks, cushioned safely next to a number of heavy wristwatches with shiny reflective faces. Ben turns to his right.

as Harry already has her hosiery sorted, he skips over the top rows and on to the lingerie below. the matching sets are kept tucked away at the bottom, so Ben carefully drops down into a crouch, mindful of the ache that’s recently started up in his knees. and it’s good, then, that he knows exactly where to look for what he wants, won’t have to spend too much time in resistance against his aging joints.

the draw slides open smoothly at his hand’s slightest insistence and when Ben slowly lifts out the navy blue lace garter and satin gaff knickers, he leaves behind the matching bra. Harry won’t be wanting one - not if the outfit he’d seen laid out across the loveseat back in the main room is what she’s decided on for tonight’s get together, something about how the stitching along the top of each cup rubs distractingly against the fabric of that particular blouse.

even more than any of that, however, is the simple fact that Ben has always had a particular partiality for the subtle suggestion of softly peaked nipples that Harry perpetually seems to be sporting through her tops. so he leaves the bra.

-

if Ben were to guess, he’d place the current time somewhere after seven, which means that he and Harry are officially late for dinner with their friends. not that he cares all that much, not now, when he walks back into the bedroom and sees Harry just as he’d left her. it’s then that Ben makes a solid decision, cursorily reasons with himself that their meals will keep just fine until they arrive.

“this won’t do at all,” he realizes, advancing toward the closest side of their bed instead of drawing up alongside Harry at the end. “you’ll never fit into these pretty little panties with your prick in such a state.”

her right leg still pointed toward the ceiling, Harry has let the other list heavily to the left, bent at the knee with the outside of her foot against the mattress, leaving her wide open. she has both hands fisted in the sheets beneath her, eyes shut serenely and shoulders twitching only slightly with the effort not to touch herself. Harry’s cock is fully erect by now, petite as it is and laying sweetly in the crease between her hip and thigh. the head is peeking out almost cheekily from her foreskin, dribbling drops of precome onto skin flushed pink, and she really is so very hard.

so much so that it looks positively painful, and yet Harry hasn’t given in to the need for friction -- because Ben didn’t say she could. the thought makes him smile, makes him want to give this girl the world. he starts with the most immediate issue at hand.

pressed forward so that his knees dig into the edge of the mattress, Ben leans over to lay Harry’s lingerie aside for now, up near the head of their bed. he straightens again almost immediately, settles between the uneven vee of Harry's thighs, and brushes his knuckles up the outside of her extended leg as he does so. at the curve of her calf, he turns his palm to hold her just lightly, turns his head to press a dry peck to the bone at her ankle. he notices a flash of red out the corner of his eye, nail polish muted by the sheer material stretched over Harry’s flexing toes, and his lips quirk fondly.

close as he is like this, Ben can feel more than see how quietly, yet determinedly, Harry is working, muscles tensed so that she’s begun to tremble, however minutely. he allows them both one more kiss, this to the slight arch of Harry’s instep, before squeezing gently around her calf.

Ben speaks with his mouth brushing against skin warm even through Harry’s black hose, tells her to _bring it down, Haz, there we go, onto my shoulder, good girl_. and then, once she’s let out a heavy, stuttering sigh, he asks, “now tell me, would you like my help? want me to get rid of that bothersome erection for you, sweetness? that what you want?”

another deep inhale, exhale, and Harry finally seems a touch calmer. much steadier when she lets her eyes fall open with a small smile and breathes a soft _please_ past bitten-red lips. “please, Ben,” she repeats, louder. “want that, want you.”

“we’ll be late for dinner,” he makes sure she knows. the hand on Harry’s leg smoothes its way down until Ben’s got a good palmful of thigh, and he huffs out an amused chuckle. “we’re _already_ late, actually.”

“Nick will forgive us,” Harry says, voice a beautiful husky thing. Ben nods seriously and raises his eyebrows meaningfully when he responds, “yes, but Louis won’t.”

and perhaps it’s his mock-severe tone, that small hint of playfulness infused back into their interaction, or maybe Harry’s just finally recovered from the strenuous task of keeping herself in such a demanding position for so long - but whatever the reason, she’s relaxed now, practically melts deeper into the comforter at her back and releases the painful clutch of her fists to stretch them up above her head, fingers waggling in a reach for the other side of the bed.

Harry’s lips have settled into a loose smirk when she looks back up at Ben properly, “don’t you worry about him, babe. i know how to handle Louis, we’ll be fine.”

“oh,” Ben teases. “is that so?”

he lifts his right hand to the peak of Harry’s bent knee, skims the pads of his fingers down the inside of her thigh and over the lace band at the top of her tights so he can get at bare skin once more. Harry moans in the back of her throat when Ben slowly knuckles past her balls, forces a strained _mhmm_ from behind her pursed lips at the inevitable curl of his palm around her aching cock.

“in that case,” he continues, finally kneeing up onto the mattress as well. using the palm he has spread wide on Harry’s right leg to hold him steady, Ben leans forward to hover over her. she’s folded neatly in half like this, knee angled to hook around until the heel of her foot is knocking against Ben’s back. “s’pose it’s a good thing then, that i’ve become so efficient at handling _you_ , yeah?”

he swallows up the drawn-out, whimpering end of a needy groan from Harry’s mouth with his own, sucks and bites at Harry’s plump lips until they’re but a smear of red across her face when he pulls away. Ben moves to press another line of kisses across her jaw and down her neck, pauses with his head tucked under Harry’s chin, breathes heavily into the hollow of her collarbones as he begins to jack her in earnest.

he sucks a string of bruises in a chain around the base of Harry’s throat and then moves his mouth sweet and damp over the skin just below her ear, “what do you want, H? tell me.”

Harry has brought her arms up to touch him in return, elbows pointing off in opposite directions as she holds Ben’s thick neck in her clammy palms, fingers sliding back to scrabble in the short hair at his nape. her breathing is a series of erratic little huffs as she stumbles around a response, _please_ and _want you_ and _your mouth_ hissed from clenched teeth. Ben goes for a nibble at her earlobe, has her nearly choking on a gasp of _**please** , Ben_ and fucking up into his fist with intent.

with his mouth pressed into a panting kiss against Harry’s smudged lips, Ben nods firmly once and then begins to make his way down her body, helping her to inch up further across the mattress with a supple handful of her sweet, bare arse. she gets the hint easily, moves falteringly as she shoulders herself back enough to make room for Ben’s southward crawl. he mouths at her chest a moment, and when he licks over one perked nipple, Harry pulls jerkingly at the hair she’s threaded her fingers through, whines throatily when he sucks at the other.

his kisses in a zigzag down Harry’s quivering stomach lead Ben to where he pauses to tongue a ring around her bellybutton, palm seeming impossibly wide where it holds the deep bow of Harry’s tiny waist as he moves to lave at the sweat collecting in the cut of her hips. by the time Ben is nosing along her lower pelvis and nuzzling into the patch of hair that she keeps trimmed short right above her dick, Harry has lost all of her earlier momentary calm.

Ben lifts his head just a bit, hoping to catch a glimpse of Harry’s face with a quick look -- she's just so delightfully remarkable. and it always strikes Ben much more potently in moments such as these, when she’s at her most vulnerable, splayed open and honest. because lovely as she is in every way, Harry has always had a history of putting an impossible amount of effort into the image of herself that she shows to others, and it’s left her unimaginably weary and worn thin in places.

being allowed to see her like this, stripped bare to her core, is an honor and a privilege. one that Ben will never take for granted.

with his eyes trained to absorb every shift in Harry’s expression, Ben sets to work;

an open-mouthed kiss pressed wet and warm to the base of her cock has Harry biting at her bottom lip, nostrils flaring through a deep inhale when Ben drags his stubbled cheek up the side of her shaft. he drops another kiss at the top, just beneath the crown, thumbs at her slit a moment and then pushes back her foreskin using a palm slick with precome. Harry’s eyelashes are fluttering a butterfly wing beat against the flushed pink of her cheeks, and as Ben smoothes the fingers of his free hand over Harry’s damp skin to cover the Monarch inked in the valley between her breasts, he makes sure to commit the sight to memory.

then he lets his own eyelids slide shut before taking a breath and swallowing Harry down in one, the sound of her sweet whimpering a love song in his ears.

-

when Ben first moved back to London all those years ago, he’d had his real estate agent take him around to see no less than ten different properties. and though he ended up settling on what he’d been assured was the best option, a narrow three-level down the street and round the corner from Grimmy, for months there’d still been something that kept it from feeling like a home. Ben immediately attributed this sense of detachment as coming from the massive master bath.

more than the open kitchen with its miles of counter space that hardly ever got used, more than the back garden and its perimeter of tall bushes that had nothing much to fence in. more than any of the other empty spaces that couldn’t be filled no matter how much expensive furniture he bought, there was something about Ben’s ensuite bathroom that was just, well. _lonely_.

it wasn’t until he started dating Harry that he got an inkling as to why - the more she stayed overnight, and the more of her toiletries that were left behind in the morning, the more complete the room began to seem.

like a hired contractor, Harry came in and did away with all of the unnecessary walls that had been holding Ben back, built an entirely new space using the bits of herself that she gave up to him so freely; a pink electric toothbrush charging in its holder and a new tube of spearmint paste oozing uncapped by the sink, two delicate bottles of nectarous perfume and three different shades of red lippy arranged neatly beneath the vanity mirror, a bar of prescription soap for sensitive skin hanging by a thick rope and a pump of nourishing treatment for damaged hair balancing out the caddy in the stall shower.

Ben methodically extinguishes the flames of each candle burning in a row along the ledge behind their ridiculous clawfoot tub, and this, _this_ feels like home.

when he turns back around to face the rest of the room, his eyes automatically seek out and find Harry. she’s sat up on the counter, long legs criss-crossed, her skirt drooping loosely in the dip where the fabric is stretched across from one knobby knee to the other. facing the mirror, she’s got her head tilted at an angle as she slides the business end of an earring into one of the tens of piercings she has dotting the curve of her ear. it must be second nature by now, an instinctual routine, as her eyes aren’t even on her own reflection anymore, and Harry catches Ben’s attention when he begins to cross back across the tiled floor.

“c’mere,” she asks, her stare too pointed for the request to be completely absentminded, but voice pitched just mild enough. “i’ll be needing some help with my necklace, if you don’t mind.”

Ben comes up behind her at the counter, reaches for the thin chain that Harry’s laid out into a carefully rounded oval on the dark granite. he tries to hold it as gently as his thick fingers will allow and waits patiently for Harry to straighten up, waits until she sweeps the curls resting across her shoulders off to one side, before lifting his arms up and over her head. the necklace lays beautifully against her skin, its gilded pendant nestled in the shallow concavity between her collarbones. she looks perfect, and Ben can’t bring himself to step away once he’s figured out the tiny clasp at Harry’s nape.

he lets himself list forward so that they’re pressed back to chest, and when he leans down to tuck his face into the crook of Harry’s neck, he realizes something with a warm spark.

“you stole my Armani cologne,” Ben says, lifts his head just as soon as his forehead had touched down on Harry’s shoulder. he speaks to her reflection, but doesn’t bother making it a question, because he already knows the answer.

and Harry, bless her, doesn’t even have it in her to look sheepish when she hums a content _mm_ at their mirror image, Ben’s arms circled around her middle. she covers the hands he has folded over her lower abdomen with her own, sinks back into Ben’s chest with a deep inhale through her nose, tips her chin enough so that her lips brush against the underside of his jaw when she speaks, “smells like you.”

three words, simple as anything, and Ben’s mind is suddenly back in their bedroom, on the small velvet box he’s had hidden away at the bottom of his side table drawer for over a week. he spares a second to hope that Harry hasn’t already gotten into that as well, briefly considers giving in and asking right here, right now.

but then he looks down at her, eyes glittering like diamonds in the white vanity light, and leans down to kiss her quick. “i love you,” he says, for now.

they’re late for dinner, after all.

\--

**Author's Note:**

> i am always always _always_ looking for inspiration, so if you'd like to leave me a picture prompt (no pairing or au ideas, just a photo) or even just want to say hi, please do not hesitate to do so; i can be found [here](http://dialethetic.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, which you are free to follow for fic-related business of all sorts!
> 
> thanks for reading :*


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